


The Hanging Tree

by TheWholeDamnTime



Series: Tumblr Prompts and AUs [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU- Fitz dies in 1x22, F/M, Heavy Angst, Post-Season 1 AU, TW: Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWholeDamnTime/pseuds/TheWholeDamnTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was listening to the song "The Hanging Tree" from the new Mockingjay movie and remembered the original lyrics ("necklace of rope" instead of "necklace of hope") and thought of FitzSimmons. I'm sorry, I'm an awful person. </p><p>EDIT: AU! Where Fitz died in the medpod incident. Sorry, didn't make that clear before.</p><p>To get the proper mood/feeling of the humming, play this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14H8OzTzne4</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hanging Tree

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three

Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

 

Jemma woke up to strains of music threading through her bunk. It sounded like someone humming a strange tune, which felt strangely familiar though she was certain she’d never heard it before in her life. But the voice… she knew that voice. Had heard it every day for almost fifteen years. Now only heard it in her dreams. A tentative head peeked up at the doorway.

And saw a figure walk past through the shadows.

Jemma balked. She knew that stride, that figure, knew it like she knew how to breathe (which in itself felt like an awful irony- he was her breath and so was the last thing he ever gave her). She was out from under the covers in a half-instant, head peeking around the corner, his name on her lips.

And stopped as the empty hallway greeted her.

Another shadow, this one down the corridor. Her feet moved without thinking, followed the sound of the humming and the flash of movement. And she didn’t stop them. Some kind of hope was building inside of her, some thin, false-winded hope that she knew would just end in more pain, but she pushed rational thought away. It’d been a long time since there was any at all.

She lost track of what corridors she took, of how many staircases she descended, of how many corners she turned. But she never lost the shadow. Every time she thought she had there would be a glimmer. A flash. There would always be a glimpse to direct her which way to go. The sound of his gait tapping along the floors. The humming, a simple, steady tune, only stopping for breath. She followed it like a beacon until she stood in front of a large, solid door that read in large block letters VAULT F. A quivering hand stretched towards the knob and turned it achingly slow.

As the door swung open, Jemma fell to her knees and almost passed out as the lights flickered on the medpod.

 

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Where a dead man called out for his love to flee

Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

 

The smell hits her and it’s like a blow to the face. It’s like seawater and medicine and for some god-awful reason, _Leo_. She can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, she can’t-

Tears threaten to pour down her face and she choked out a soft whimper. This was like re-living every nightmare she’d had, over and over and over and over and-

Words are tearing through her brain now, echoing over the constant humming.

_“You’re taking it- end of story. I couldn’t live if you didn’t.”_

_“I feel the same way- there has to be another way! Why- why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world!”_

_“Yeah, but you’re more than that, Jemma.”_

Slowly, in a process that feels like hours, maybe even days, she gets a grip on herself. Breathing slows to a normal pace, albeit a bit ragged. She made herself stand on shaking legs, take a step towards what would have been Fitz’s final resting place had she not dragged him up with her. Now he lay under six feet of earth instead of ninety feet of water. Either way, he wasn’t with her. Another step. The door is hanging off the upper hinge, tilted at a haphazard angle with glass that almost glares at her. It’s accusing, screaming that it’s all her fault. And she knows it is.

Inside, the only thing that’s changed is the type of disorder and the dampness. Nothing is in the same place, but it feels the same- scattered, random, chaotic. The smell of seawater is stronger here, tinted with rusting metal and rotting fabric. She stands in the middle and takes a deep breath. The humming seems to echo in here, in the small space. The song is so haunting, it seems fitting, and she listens harder for the quirks that tell her it’s him. She closes her eyes and the memories come flooding back.

 

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Where I told you to run so we’d both be free

Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

 

_“Jemma it’s okay. Take it, Jemma, take it.”_

He’s giving her an out. She can make it. She can _live_.

But she can’t. Not without him.

 

Are you, are you coming to the tree?

Wear a necklace of rope side-by-side with me

Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be

If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

 

Jemma’s fingers grazed over the little bottle in her pocket, the question that had been dancing in her mind since the water ripped half of her away. Sleeping pills- nothing special, not even prescription grade. But there were enough of them.

She’d done the math.

It seemed fitting to do it there. The same place that had created the deciding factor. The same place that had torn away fifteen years of love and companionship, caused it to vanish in a rush of water and the light that shimmered through it. It only took a few seconds to swallow down the two handfuls. When she was done, her eyes opened slowly, slowly. A long breath lingered on her lips as she exhaled. The bottle was pocketed and a light drowsiness settled on her like a blanket draped around her shoulders. They’d understand when they found her. Months of being dull and listless, the heaviness weighing on her every movement. Coulson had set her up with more psychiatrists than she cared to remember. She’d denied second meetings with all of them. She hoped he’d understand why.

The blanket’s weight increased and she moved to sit on the floor of the medpod, cool metal kissing warm skin and drawing a shiver from her. She was so tired, and not just because of the pills. It took more effort than imaginable to keep on that warm smile, to act as though nothing was wrong for months. There were times when she would drop off in the middle of sentences, waiting for him to finish, or ramble almost incoherently and look around for the second voice. He was supposed to chime in. He always chimed in.

She lay down, head pillowed on her arm. Eyes slid shut so that she shadows would stop dancing like they echoed through water, like they were taunting the last moments she saw him. And damn it, maybe she really was going crazy but the humming was growing louder. The sound of his footsteps joined it and the noises grew closer as she took measured breaths, the metal beneath her growing colder with each inhalation.

And then everything stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of making a happy ending! I swear! It should be happy in the end... (-ish) 
> 
> EDIT: My lovely friend also asked for a prequel because he didn't get that Fitz was dead when he started reading. So maybe one of those as well :P


End file.
